The Call of Destiny

Chapter 1: Encounter in the Woods

Slivers of the impending dawn touched the lake, shimmering over the surface. Merlin opened his eyes slowly, wishing he could escape back into sleep. The lake was eerily calm, smooth as glass. Just the day before, he had sent Arthur in a boat to the land of Avalon-to his death.

I failed. Everything I've done and he's dead. Kilgharrah said that he would rise again. But when?

He stirred slightly, only vaguely aware of his hunger. He couldn't go back to Camelot, couldn't see the grief and pain in everyone's eyes.

I was the one who brought his downfall. How many times could he have killed Morgana, thus ending her reign of terror? And that terrible mistake when they had gone to the Disir. Not only had he betrayed his own kind by insuring Camelot would stay free of sorcery, he had set in motion the horrible chain of events that brought him here. His attempts to protect Arthur had done the exact opposite.

He was empty. Purposeless. What was his life now?

Well you can't sit here wallowing forever. He'd sent off too many of those he cared about here. Freya. Lancelot. Elyan. Arthur. The serenity of its idyllic surroundings mocked the turmoil of his soul. He couldn't bear to be here a moment longer.

He stood up, a bit too quickly on an empty stomach. His vision spun and he stumbled, but righted himself. He had no idea where to head now. The only place he could think of was Ealdor. He hadn't seen his mother in almost a year now, but that was a good two days' journey on foot.

There's no where else. He set forth, putting distance between himself and the lake as fast as possible.

*******

Della knelt on the forest floor, grasping the root of the wild angelica. The morning air was unseasonably cool. She suppressed a shiver and tied her shawl tighter, as if that would dispel the cold.

She had gotten here earlier than normal today, before her aunt Ealhwyn awakened. She warned her not to come out here today, as there were rumors of Saxons roaming the lands. Another chill ran through her ran through her, though this time this time was from a cold that went deep into her being.

Just a few days prior, she foresaw a great battle in the mountain pass of Camlann. Blood pooled on the ground as the cries of men in the throes of death echoed around the valley. From atop a cliff, a great and powerful sorcerer called down lightning from the sky.

Emrys. She recognized him as the sorcerer Ealhwyn said would be the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. She'd seen him in another vision before, years prior, when he was younger, when he was called Merlin.

She thought back on the events that had unfolded in her mind's eye-all the way up to seeing the king stabbed in the stomach by a younger man with anger and hate in his eyes.

She continued picking her herbs, trying not to dwell on the images that haunted her.

Trees shrouded in mist. A woman with long dark hair walked down a hill, a malicious smile on her face. She stood over the injured king, and looked as if she was on the edge of sheer insanity.

Behind her, Merlin approached, a sword drawn. Images come faster; suddenly, the witch is stabbed through. The light faded from her eyes as death claimed her.

Tears run down her face, and she wiped them away as quickly as they came, remembering the final part of the vision.

A dragon appeared, eyes golden. He spoke to Merlin, who held Arthur by a lake. Arthur is still and pale in his arms. "There is nothing you can do."